


Bed Intruder

by PowerOfFunk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Elements of Dub-Con, Gen, Invasion of Privacy, M/M, One Shot, Other, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:06:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7869400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PowerOfFunk/pseuds/PowerOfFunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a kink-meme prompt:</p>
<p>Despite his years in the army, John is a very, very deep sleeper. Seriously, if WWIII was going on under his bed, John still wouldn't wake up. Sherlock takes advantage of this. Every night, Sherlock will wait until John falls asleep, then he'll creep into his bed, hold him, tell him he loves him and pretend that they're a couple. Sherlock justifies his creepiness by the fact that on the rare nights that Sherlock doesn't do this, John has nightmares, so it's all fine, right? </p>
<p>Wrong. One night John wakes up, and he is super freaked out. I want loads of angst, but eventually a happy ending.</p>
<p>http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/9100.html?thread=44413324</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bed Intruder

Sherlock watched with his pale blue eyes as John plodded slowly up the stairs to bed, before turning back to his experiment.

He listened vaguely as John moved around his room before getting into bed.

An hour later he finished his work began to get ready for bed himself, but instead of staying in his own room though he carefully climbed the stairs to John's room, avoiding the creaky third step and quietly opening the door to John's room.

He watched at John for a bit, as he seemed to be starting to have a nightmare, his face already creasing with stress, fear and panic.

He carefully climbed in behind John, the bed creaking slightly under his weight and shuffled up to the other man carefully and wrapped his arms about him. The smaller man almost immediately settled, his face going smooth and peaceful again.

Sherlock had first done this only after the great game. John hadn't been home for long and had been having a nightmare. Sherlock had tried to wake him but John could sleep through World War 3, especially when in the throes of a nightmare. He had been especially jittery at the time, as John had only just got out of the hospital, Sherlock felt responsible, and, not being used feeling that way decided to try and do something about it, and when he had tried everything else he could think of, he had gotten into bed beside John and held him, and the man had started to calm down.

After that, when the nightmares had been bad he had done it again. Then just when John was starting to have a nightmare, and then it had been most nights. Now, months later, it was almost every night, in fact the only times when he didn't was when he was on a case and stayed up all night. Even when he was annoyed with the doctor he still went to his bed.

John still hadn't noticed him, but Sherlock wasn't too surprised. He made sure that he always left well before John woke and never left any evidence.

He had known the night with the cabbie that John interested him and that they could well be good friends, but he hadn't realised quite how good.

At first, it had just been feeling slightly possessive and solicitous over the man, spoiling his dates and such, but he had thought that more just because the woman was annoying.

After that he had made a point of preventing John from forming romantic relationships with women, and even though he didn't think that John would even be interested he had used his own personality, along with subtle touches to scare away any men that looked as if they were interested.

After that he had started to realise that his feelings and actions towards John had been irregular, and not what normal people would do for a flatmate or friend, even for a best friend, and Donovan and Lestrade always gave him and John weird looks, like they expected them to do something more.

Even when he had been friends with Victor Trevor during school, he hadn't felt this strongly for another individual- well, nothing positive at least, and while he couldn't say for sure, having never done it, he didn't think that he would enjoy sleeping in the same bed as him, especially doubted that it would give him the warm happy feeling in his chest.

It was then that he realised that perhaps he felt something more for John.

This had been worrying at first. What would John do? He was straight, not to mention he had never shown any signs of liking Sherlock in that way.

Then Sherlock had realised that if he said anything, then everything could change. There was always a chance that his feelings would be reciprocated, but almost definitely John would be freaked out. He probably wouldn't leave. John was too good to do that, and he had said before that it was ‘all fine’....

Still, things could be changed forever. Damaged irreparably, and Sherlock didn't want that. He would love for something more but what he had now was better than nothing.

John assumed that he was asexual, and it was true that he didn't feel sexual desire very often... and when he did it wasn't anything that he couldn't usually deal with himself.

So, he had allowed himself to go to John's room in the night, even though it hurt when he had to leave in the morning and John came down in the morning with no idea that Sherlock had ever been there.

It had been working fairly well until that night. Sherlock had been pondering these things, which was not unusual when he was in this position, despite how much he realised that the entire train of thought was useless, when he suddenly noticed that John had gone rigid in his arms.

Well.

Shit.

Damn.

He waited for John to say something.

“Sherlock.”

“Ah- he- hem” He coughed, “Yes John?” He tried to keep his voice as casual and nonchalant as possible.

“What are you doing?”

“...Just trying to sleep.”

From John's body language he could tell that making jokes and dancing around the issue was maybe not what John wanted right now.

“Sherlock I'm used to you doing some strange things but this is... seriously what is this? Is this an experiment or something?”

Lying probably wasn't the best policy, and besides John would probably be able to tell, or find out later which would make him even angrier.

“No.”

“So... what are you doing?”

“You sleep better when I'm here.”

“I- what? Sherlock how often do you do this?”

“...Most nights.” He could feel his heart in his chest, terrified of what John would do next. He hoped that John couldn't feel it too.

“… For how long?”

“Since the pool.”

“Right... Right OK.”

There was silence for the better part of a minute before Sherlock prompted: “John?”

“I- sorry Sherlock why are you here?”

“Because you sleep better-”

“No Sherlock, WHY are YOU here?” He still hadn't turned around to look at him, or even made an attempt to remove Sherlock's arms from his waist.

“Because-” What could he tell him? He wasn't ever supposed to find out. Sherlock had never even dared to consider what he would have to say to placate John if he did. “Because I want to be.”

“Why?”

“Because... I care.”

“I see.”

John gets out of the bed, not saying another word grabs his work clothes before heading back downstairs to the bathroom. Sherlock gets up and goes downstairs, sitting in the sofa.

John comes out, and since he has taken his time, he goes straight out to work, without breakfast or coffee.

Sherlock sits and stresses for the entire day. John is going to leave, obviously, or just never talk to him again, and it's all his fault.

He ignores all the messages from his brother and Lestrade, and feels like screaming into a pillow.

He ends up spending the day in John's bed, smelling the pillow. Honestly it's hopelessly endearing how John never even realised, even though Sherlock can smell himself on John's pillow.

* * *

When John gets home that night, Sherlock can tell that he's made his mind up on something, but it seems like he has decided to ignore that this whole thing ever happened and let it go forever.

But i'll never be able to do it again. Sherlock thought to himself.

John makes beans on toast for the both of them and puts on the TV as they eat, apparently not ready to talk yet.

Sherlock worries himself into a state, but on the outside he looks calm enough, or at least he thinks so, but then before he knows it it is getting dark outside and John is getting ready for bed.

He pauses at the bottom of the stairs, then turns around and says to Sherlock, “You can, you can come up in a bit... if you want.”

He sounds very nervous and doesn't stop to wait for an answer before disappearing.

Sherlock sits there is shock for about 30 seconds, then feels a grin spreading subtly over his face.

He waits till he knows that John will be asleep before going up anyway.

He climbs in carefully, so as not to wake John, then wraps his arms around him, but more nervously than usual.

Before he knows it the sun is coming up, and he knows that John will wake up soon, so he begins to disentangle himself, but a hand grips his arm and he freezes.

“Do you want me to stay-”

“Not ready to talk about it yet, Sherlock.” John says firmly, leaving no room for retort, but Sherlock takes the man's lingering hand as an okay, and feels that same smile spreading across his face again and moves back in behind the doctor. This time being slightly braver and putting his chin on John's shoulder.

John doesn't object at all.

The end.


End file.
